The Marrying Type
by Jacal Ste. Worme
Summary: Everyone probably considers the pending "Bamon Situation" promising, but Bonnie thinks that it's not just about the journey but the destination. On top of that, Damon Salvatore isn't the marrying type, and that just won't do.
1. Prologue

**AN:** Ok, seriously, the lack of Bamon updates lately has driven me to write another Bamon story. xD Anywaaaay. I'm here again.

For the record, story-wise, I won't be rushing into things (or so I think), so I hope you guys would be patient as you read future chapters. I'd like to make this Bonnie-centric as possible, but I might be squeezing Damon's POV once in a while. Also, there are only a few elements from the series that I will be including in this story, and I'm sure you'll pinpoint those things soon enough.

A special shout out to **psejhan**, who gave a whole lotta chunk of ideas and a rather special shove of encouragement to make me write this.

This is for the Bamon lovers—and why Bamon works.

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**The Marrying Type**

_by Jacal Ste. Worme_

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_Prologue_

Whenever she saw him, Bonnie couldn't help the irritation that welled up from her being, and no, it wasn't of the sexual kind. Whether he was purposely pissing her off, or for some reason being a boy scout and simply helping an old lady cross the street, (because it didn't matter what he was doing) he was always, _always_ going to annoy the fuck out of her.

The only problem in this situation was that Damon was naturally charming. The vampire was a Casanova who had a century's worth of experience under his mouth-watering belt, and he never failed to remind everyone of this fact. Honestly, Bonnie didn't blame him for being born with such panty-dropping, drool-worthy good looks. Hell, she wasn't even angry that he was unconsciously seducing women with his beautiful yet sinful charisma.

So even if he had been non-discretely trying to get in her pants, wooing her so uncharacteristically, Damon was always going to get on her nerves. Bonnie doubted that anything was ever going to change that, particularly if she wanted to settle down in the not-so-distant future.

Just as everyone was starting to think that the pending "Bamon Situation" was promising—especially the Salvatore's younger brother, everyone wondering why only the fuck now did Damon manage to pull his head from a certain doppleganger's ass, Bonnie was already convincing herself that she was going to say a big N-O to the blue-eyed vamp before he officially asked her out on a d-a-t-e.

That was why as Bonnie entered the Grill that late Monday night, having agreed to 'accidentally meet her possible true love' c/o one, blonde, vamp bestie, her eyes landed on the man who was supposedly besotted with her, flashing a group of co-eds his trademark smirk, and one thought kept on recurring in Bonnie's overactive brain, fuelling her intense dislike for said bloodsucker:

_Damon Salvatore wasn't the marrying type, and that just won't do. _

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**AN:** This is a very short prologue, but I decided to get this out to urge me not to drop this plot bunny. So if you've given this a shot, please say so and leave a review. Thanks for reading! :)


	2. Reason 1

AN: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Happy reading! ;)

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"NO! NO! NO!" For the thirtieth time that day, Bonnie repeated the word with much feeling, "NO!" Her reflection was a mask of pestilence and fatal hurricanes—clearly, her conviction was off the charts. Then, she mused, _maybe I should try a different approach._

The stern visage of her face melted into soft emotion, caught between a bittersweet goodbye and an ounce of longing. Her green orbs widened as she played the damsel in distress part, the victim of romance and tragic love. "Look, Damon," she whispered, her voice husky and a bit sleepy. "I just can't be with you, ok?" Biting her lower lip, she shifted her gaze from the mirror, as if she had been staring at a nostalgic downpour, and the sadness had become too much that she just had to look away. "I'm not—I'm _not_ the one you want. I'm not the one for you."

Hearing her say those words made a laugh tickle her belly, and at the same time, a painful kind of twist inside her ribcage.

No, no. Try another one.

Try reality.

"NO!" Bonnie exclaimed, glancing back at the mirror, the face of a young but trial-tested witch glaring back at her. "You are not the one for me, Damon. You are not the one!"

The light bulbs in her room began to flicker, but before her house suffered another emotionally-charged black out, her phone lit up. Immediately feeling the sensation of annoyance dancing through her, Bonnie knew it was _him_.

_This man—no, this vampire_, Bonnie thought scornfully, _was such an enigma._ She wanted to burn her phone into a crisp when she read his message.

_Little witch._ _Left Bolognese at your doorstep. _

Right after she read the message, another one came in.

_P.S. How do you know I'm not the one for you? _

Bonnie screeched in annoyance, the sound coming out as a little growl and a suppressed squeal. What was she doing again before she was practicing how to reject Damon? Oh yes, mentally making a check list as to WHY Damon wasn't the marrying type, why he was a walking disaster waiting to happen.

Grabbing a pen and a page from her memo pad supposedly for her out-of-the-blue spells, she wrote down quite messily: _1) _**_Damon is Damon_****_._**_ Unpredictable, and unstable!_

Though he was far from being a homicidal vampire as of late, Damon had been full of surprises, and when it came to the supernatural, Bonnie hated surprises with a passion. She supposedly read him like an open book, but now, it seems the situation has been reversed. Exhibit A, he gave her the impression that he was psychic. For all she knew, almost everyone knew about it—hell, even Bonnie knew that he was really enjoying trying to make her like him more than a friend. Hasn't this been the reason why she had been practicing to turn him down before he even asked her out?

But he didn't ask her out.

It was like Damon _knew_ that she was planning to refuse him. For nearly a month now, Bonnie had been frustrated about this, wondering WHEN the fuck would Damon just do it so she can finally get things over with.

Bonnie was dying to reject him flat out, and she waited and waited… but he still didn't ask her out.

Despite her initial plan of denying his advances, Damon's strategy was annoying as fuck, because now Bonnie was on her toes, very close to the edge of god-knows-what. Now her quiet meditations were interrupted by questions like, "Am I just a detour?"or "Did Damon just feel the need to break my heart after he'd taken everything from me?" or "Is he just in it to put it in it?" The questions were endless—endlessly annoying, that is.

"Well, tough luck, Salvatore," Bonnie rehearsed, resuming what was becoming a regular monologue whenever she was alone. _More like tough luck, Bennett,_ she sighed_. _She was supposedly a force to be reckoned with, but what she wouldn't admit was that the blue-eyed bloodsucker had a higher chance of winning a game of manipulation, especially a tricky one like this.

True, Damon didn't ask her out, but that didn't stop him from doing _other_ things. Things like flirting with her whenever she was around, sending her stupid messages in the middle of the day, and showering her with surprise gifts every now and then. Some gifts she kept in a box under her bed, some gifts she used—like that luxury lavender shower gel from France. He was actually paying attention to her likes and dislikes, which was actually a great thing, if he was just a normal person. If Bonnie was being honest with herself, she would actually go as far to say that Mister Can't Keep It In His Pants Salvatore was actually courting her, romancing her like a true gentleman.

The fact still remains, however, that Bonnie was still not comfortable with the idea of Damon seeing her in a romantic light in general. As much as she wanted to confront him about this, whatever he was doing, she didn't want to act like she was an assuming bitch who thought that the world revolved around her. What if he was doing this to other women, too, what then? She'd look like a pathetic clown, that's what.

Besides, asking him to stop was synonymous with giving him the go. Still, she wanted to get the message across: _I'm not buying this shit._

Bonnie's phone lit up again.

_You shouldn't leave my gift downstairs. It's getting cold. _

Frowning, she replied, _Didn't ask you to get me pasta, you idiot! _

Damon merely replied with a smiley sticking its tongue out. Rolling her eyes, Bonnie exited her room and sprinted down the stairs. She harshly pulled the door open and wasn't surprised to see a rather peculiar brown box on the doormat. Without checking if he was still there, she grabbed the box and slammed the door close. Stomping to the kitchen, the box squeezed against her belly, the pointy edges starting to sting, she finally deposited the box on the counter.

_Then again_, she thought, feeling her stomach grumble in hunger, _pasta sounds good_. Salivating, she opened the box, and instead of seeing food, all she saw was white and a set of sleepy eyes. The four-pawed thing began to climb out of the box, only it was too tiny, that it kept falling backwards into a cute heap of fuzzy, snow fur. Unable to help herself, she took the little baby from the box and squeezed gently against her chest. The puppy made a soft sound that tugged on Bonnie's heartstrings. _Damn, he's good._

With her right hand filled with puppy, she took her phone and just as expected, she saw his message. _Just so I'm clear, I sent you a Bolognese pup. So don't be a Stefan and eat our new baby._

_Damon_, she began to type, but backspaced when she thought it was a little too personal for her liking. Leaving his name out, she wrote, _Thank you. I've never had a pet before._

Before she can send it, Damon sent her another message: _In case you didn't get that_, _he's OUR dog, honey. So you'd have to let me in so I can help clean up after him. xo_

Rolling her eyes, she erased her entire message, and sent this instead, _Using an innocent to get what you want: classic Damon. _

_Did it work? I AM a diabolical mastermind, after all. _

_I'm allergic. _

_Allergic to fur or love? _

_Have to give it to you tho, Salvatore. He's adorable. _

_Typo, Bennett. It's supposed to be, "Salvatore, YOU'RE adorable." And you think I want you, huh?_

_I'm not replying after this. Nyt. Thx agn. _

_Take care of our little love child, k? Remember, I have visiting rights! xx_

Maybe Damon just gave her one of the best presents she had ever received, but still, she wasn't going to change her mind. Seeing her reflection on the window, a sleeping puppy now at her bosom, she announced, "I'm not going to marry you, Damon Salvatore. Not in a million years."

But, looking down at her sleeping companion, she's definitely keeping this little fella.

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**AN**: Reviews for Bamon love! ;)


	3. Reason 2

**AN:** Did you guys Google what a Bolognese pup looks like? It looks damn adorable! Soooo, thank you, thank you for all the reviews. And bubbles, if you're still reading, here's the chapter you've been looking for. ;D Also, this will be a little bit longer. Decided to update soon, because what the hell- it's the weekend! xD

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"Why can't I come over again?"

"I told you. I'm sick. Like sick, _sick_. Disgusting kinda sick."

**"**Uh… So why can't I come over again?"

"You know how I am when I'm sick! And no! I am NOT going to drink your blood! This is a stupid cold, Caroline. I didn't get stabbed in the gut!" They suddenly paused and shuddered in remembrance the last time that happened. "Anyway, this is just a bug. I'll be fine before you know it." Bonnie bit back a giggle when Django, her new pup, licked her elbow. She poked him gently away, and the puppy whined. _Oops_, her eyes widened.

"What was _that_?" her best friend asked suspiciously.

Bonnie licked her lips, "I said, you know how I am when I'm sick! AND NO, I am NOT going to—"

"Not that, Mrs Paranoid," Caroline replied flatly, and paused, using her exquisite hearing to tune in on whatever caught her attention. "Is that…" she gasped, "Do you have a dog in there?! Because that surely sounds like a—"

"I'm watching TV," she replied so fast that she was so sure that Caroline would call her a—

"Liar!" Caroline exclaimed so loudly she had to pull her phone away from her ear. "Bonnie, you know that—"

"I know, I know. It's just Damon, he—"

"I knew it," her phone sighed dramatically. "He's really into you. He gave you a _puppy_? That's just fuckin' adorbs, Bons, and you know it." Caroline then proceeded to squeal like a fangirl on the other line.

"It _IS_ kinda sweet, yeah," she admitted through her nose.

"Which brings me to that thing I've been asking you for days now, huh?" Somehow, she saw this coming, and Caroline just had to load the question again, sorta. "You heard me, Bonnie. Now answer me."

"I don't _know_," Bonnie mumbled against her phone, squishing it between her shoulder and the side of her cheek as she put Django away, and tried to fold her thick blanket. She normally didn't like making her bed right after she woke up (especially during weekends), but Caroline's inquiry so early in the morning required immediate attention. "I mean, he turned Abby."

"I didn't ask what he did to your _mom_," Caroline answered, and Bonnie could easily imagine her doing air quotes with the M word. "I've been asking if you'd give Damon a chance. Bons, I swear, you can totally give me an aneurism right now, 'cause I think I'm actually giving you my blessing."

Bonnie had to admit, Abby was a sore subject. Well, she was—er, _is_, her biological mother. The whole mother-witch-turned-vampire debacle was a bitch, there's no doubt about that, but the truth was, Bonnie had always been the smart girl and did her best not to incessantly rant about it. Abby might have been a sore subject, but she wasn't her mother in the real sense of the word. Abby was just that, a subject in Bonnie's life, and currently, just a reason and an excuse.

Thinking back, ever since she realized that her mom had gone AWOL, her dad always MIA, and Bring Your Parent to School Day had been a terrible no-show for two consecutive years, little Bonnie learned how to cope. There were few children who could accomplish such a gigantic emotional leap, to be able to accept and deal with the fact that her parents were close to non-existent, that her grandmother was more than enough.

"Actually, I'm not surprised," Bonnie said, in reference to Caroline's approval. She knew that her voice wasn't really disappointed—or eager, for that matter. Feeling her bladder about to explode, she put left her phone in the middle of the bed. "You're on speaker. Gimme a second; seriously need to pee."

While on the porcelain throne, Bonnie couldn't help but ponder on a few things. She was aware that to the Scooby Gang, or freshies who only saw her in the hallways at school giggling with Elena and Caroline, that they only perceived her as the best friend, and only those two basked in the light of all things perfect and unrivaled. However, to the rest of the world, where human reality was as vital as the air, you could almost say that Bonnie was a certified star child.

Growing up, Bonnie invested her time in being happy instead of being sad. This wasn't a false sense of security she had made for herself, because that being said, Bonnie turned the lonely feeling of being an only, almost-orphaned child into living her life to the fullest. She opened her eyes to see and love what life had to offer. So when Grams was teaching, Elena was stuck being a sister to younger Jeremy, and Caroline was busy with mother-daughter outings, the lone ranger Bonnie read books, enrolled in dance and singing classes, learned a language or two, and of course—wrote her hopes and dreams in her X-Men notepad.

During her formative years, Bonnie used to think she was secretly Batman. Having absent parents didn't make you less awesome, so she channeled the Dark Knight whenever she listened to her best friends bitch about how frustrating their parents were. Thinking about the Gilberts, they were probably one of the last traces of normalcy that graced Mystic Falls before shit hit the fan. They were what you could call 'cool parents', very warm and loving. When they passed, it was no surprise that the devastating blow had pulled Elena into a spiral of depression, the kind of sorrow that Bonnie was supposedly accustomed to, and yet even then, the latter had aimed to be positive, wondering maybe they've reached rock bottom and better things would start happening again.

Boy, was she wrong.

In fact, she was wrong about so many things. Like for instance, she might have felt like a powerless, grieving Batman as she watched the Gilberts' caskets being lowered six feet under, and she thought that she wasn't really a superhero because she was just Bonnie. What others might have called an accident, the car crash was the true meteor that changed their lives by setting everything into motion, because just as Stefan's interest in Elena grew into epic proportions, so did Bonnie's magic spring to life, each undeniable flicker of flame, float of feather, and uncontrollable 'reading' of a person with just a touch—she knew that things were never going to be the same again. Now, each day was either a battle won or lost, and Bonnie had to deal with the hand that she was dealt.

Nonetheless, despite the drastic alterations that had happened to her, there was one thing that Bonnie had promised to remain loyal to—her one wish, her deepest secret: a torn page from that superhero memo pad with clean, cursive writing from her 10-year-old self. She didn't dream to be the richest girl in Mystic Falls, nor to be a well-known actress or dancer; she only wanted a family of her own.

Bonnie wanted to get married to the right man, and she wanted to get hitched—as soon as possible. It may seem as a childish aspiration to most people nowadays, but its worth surpassed the level of her magic and loyal character. It wasn't just because she was stubborn. Bennett witches were popular for two things: the magnitude of their power, and the string of broken families they leave behind. Since then, it had become Bonnie's life mission to prove that she can be a powerful witch, get married, have a family of her own, keep it together, and make it fucking last.

Hasn't she given everyone more than enough? The wish was her last chance of hope, her last chance of believing in love for herself. How can she not cling to her purest desire, reading that torn page before she went to bed every other day? After all these years, the effect had been the same on Bonnie, leaving her feeling a good kind of anxiousness that managed to give her enough courage and strength to face a new day on her own. Her time will come, she believed. Her time will come that this single wish would come true, and she would finally be free to give all the love she had within her. She had to be selfish about this dream, because she was saving all her joy for something permanent. To be able to give her future child the same opportunities _and more_ was enough to bring tears to her eyes whenever she thought about it. And oh, a husband to share such plans (and pent-up pleasure) with!

"What's taking you so long? Did you just poop?" Caroline's amused voice filled the air, breaking her train of thought. "You're fantasizing about Damon, aren't you?"

"Far from it, Care Bear," she answered as she stepped out from the bathroom. Reminded of her Damon problem, Bonnie knew that the vampire was a bottomless pit of need, and she was so certain that if she gave it a shot, she could definitely quench his thirst for love, but the fact still remained—could he quench hers? Getting her WHY not to marry Damon list, she wrote her second reason: 2) **Bonnie IS Bonnie**. "Far from it."

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**AN:** So that's our back story (and one helluva bathroom break). And YES! The puppy's name is Django. Don't you guys just love that movie? xD We'll probably get Damon time for the next chapter. If you want quicker updates, more cookies may be necessary! Send your love, Bamonators. xo, Jacal.


	4. Reason 3

**AN:** Regarding the story, I just have to say: Since we're in a sort-of AU, I'm going to just go and say that whatever is happening on the show, everyone is taking an indefinite leave from that just to make this story happen. Haha!

Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I just HAVE to say this again: I'm so relieved everyone is giving Bonnie enough credit for her reasons (esp her past) as to why she shouldn't give in to Damon.

A special note to Vie, who I couldn't PM: I'm glad to know you're out there reading this!

As always, happy reading, guys!

ALSO. This chapter was reposted. I couldn't believe what happened to it. There were spaces between words, etc. This is the first it happened to me wtf. Thanks to those who pointed it out.

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Others would call him an expert on it, but Damon hated waiting. He really, really couldn't express just how much he hated waiting. Despite this fact, there was something about Bonnie Bennett that made waiting seem so… _interesting._ Exhibit A: Damon hated texting just as much as the next male human, but somehow, Bonnie was enough reason to change his mind. He didn't think their real-life chemistry would transcend their digital communication as well.

_Bon-bon, I wrote a poem._

Some would have already blown a gasket because his text had been sent an hour ago, but some didn't wait for a certain Katherine Pierce for more than a century. More chivalrous gents would probably just call or visit, but Damon wanted to 'talk her language', and that meant conversing via messaging. Moreover, something about her reading his messages whether she liked it or not was simply enough to get him off.

So he tried again, _A poem about you. _

Damon hated waiting, but Bonnie made it worth the wait. As cliché as that sounded, he enjoyed thinking about it. Truthfully, she always pulled through at the end, and more often than not, he had been at the receiving end of her last-minute saves. Thinking about Bonnie more than Elena was unexpectedly making a vast difference in his life, that's for sure. Not that he was entirely giving up on his naturally-tanned brunette per se, but the whole finding-a-cure tirade was starting to piss him off. He was feeling antsy and bored, so he thought maybe playing a jealous game by giving more attention to the best friend would do. He just didn 't expect that he would be the one to cave in so easily. He certainly didn't anticipate for things to turn out rather… _interesting_.

Ever since he set foot back on Mystic Falls, Damon was never given time to look away from Elena's pretty face. Even if he didn't fall head over heels for her at once, the attraction was there. How could he resist someone who had the same face that invaded his dreams and fantasies since the beginning of his unlife? He wouldn't tell anyone, but had things been different, had Elena gotten her looks from Isobel for crying out loud, he probably would have stayed away. More specifically, if he inspected Bonnie a little more, seen her beyond Emily and that stupid necklace, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to get Bonnie to fall for his charms.

Since Damon began this particular 'change of pace', trying to give a rat's ass a bout Bonnie, he discovered that it had become harder and harder to look away. He could spend the whole day going round in circles dreaming about how Elena should be his, but it only took a minute to think about Bonnie, and he would be busy counting the reasons why the witch was supposed to be with him—logic be damned. He kept on seeing why they made sense. The more he pondered about it, the more he kept wondering what it felt like to touch her, to kiss her, to have her close, and Elena would just be Katherine at the end of the day—a part of his past, someone he could forget, someone that always chose Stefan no matter what. Elena was just a girl.

Elena was just some girl. Technically, she was just another vampire now. She wasn't a goddess. Now Bonnie on the other hand… Damon couldn't even begin to grasp the potential that was contained in her hot, hot bod. He wanted to release that, wanted to take part in her blooming, needed to do so many naughty (and nice) things to her, needed to make her see what he saw in the possibility of them _together_.

_Need_. It was such a strong word. Damon laughed to himself, wondering how the fuck did he even relate that word to Bonnie Bennett, of all people.

_"What are you doing to Bonnie, Damon?"_

_"None of your biz."_

_"You're not going to use her to change my mind about the cure."_

_"For once I might admit that you are even more of a self-centered ass than I am. "_

_"You don't love me anymore, Damon, is that it?" _

_"You tell me."_

That conversation wasn't something Damon liked, but he was proud of it. He didn't know why he did it, and it wasn't just about Bonnie, really. It probably was rooted from the fact that if Elena did truly love him, that could be _it_ for him—no more games, no more chasing, and there would only be forever with her. _Then what?_ There was also the reason that he wasn't used to having things he wanted. Even if Elena was finally willing, a big part of him still wanted to be sure that she was really going to choose _him_, no matter what (Stefan).

Enough about the Elena thoughts though, Damon chided himself, because one thing was clear: Bonnie was his new addiction, and he wasn't having doubts about it. Surprisingly, he was having the time of his life.

His phone glowed in the dark of his room, alerting him of her reply, _I can only hope it's not disgusting. _

Typing it really fast, Damon sent his composition to her, something that came and stuck to him when he dined in a fine dining Japanese restaurant earlier this afternoon:

_You're my sea urchin;_

_Prickly dangerous on the outside,_

_But mouth-watering goodness inside._

_I'll lick your poison,_

_Live with the pain,_

_Crack you open, _

_Eat you raw_

_Again and again and again…_

It took just a beat; he couldn't help but snicker when he read her short reply. She was playing it safe, obviously not wanting to give him any other ideas, _Leave the sea urchin alone. _

_No can do. I'm a bad boy. Punish me? ;)_

_Call Stefan. I'm sure he wants to make u his whipping boy._

_Oooh, whips! Are you thinking what I'm thinking? ;) _

_My mistake for replying. Pls don't txt unless absolutely necessary._

_But this is necessary! :o _

Damon couldn't help but laugh. He could probably spend forever looking at Elena, but he could spend a lifetime doing whatever this was with Bonnie _and_ looking at her.

God, they were going to be so good together.

But if only he could see her right now, scribbling reason number three, "3)** He's a terrible poet.** _Like really terrible." _on her why NOT to marry Damon list, Damon wouldn't be laughing at all.

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**AN:** Reviews are fuel to the Bamon flame, send more, please! ;)


	5. Reason 4

**AN**: I'd like to apologize to those who read the previous chapter for the first few hours it was posted. There were spaces between and within words that weren't supposed to be there. I am sorry to those who put up with it and left. A big thanks to those who still read through it and left me a nice review. Thank you.

Warning: this piece isn't particularly a happy one. Still, happy reading to you guys! :)

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To be left alone with her milky scrambled eggs and bacon strips was the definition of 'The Life' for Bonnie. Since Django was still a wee little thing, she managed to sneak him in with a few of his emergency belongings. She felt like a new mommy with her new baby bag's strap still hooked on her shoulder. Even if she didn't like Damon buying things for her, she was grateful that he had enough decency to buy Django's essentials. After all, it wasn't a joke to have a dog out of the blue, to which Damon said, _Think of it as an unplanned pregnancy!_

Pushing thoughts of the elder Salvatore aside, Bonnie smiled fondly and resumed her perfect breakfast. Just as she scooped some eggs in her mouth, her eyes automatically landed to the diner's entrance where a certain someone appeared. _Dammit_, she cursed as she swallowed, _There goes the peace._ Letting go of the fork, her left hand slid inside her jeans' pocket and pulled out her list and pen. Watching the girl she grew up with scan the crowd, Bonnie tried to look inconspicuous as she wrote plain and simple: 4) _**Elena**__._

Even if she had been already expecting it, Bonnie still jumped when said brunette slid in the booth in front of her. She almost choked on her tongue as her fingers quickly shoved the list back in her pocket. "Hi, Elena. Nice to see you today." It wasn't really a lie, but it didn't feel like the truth either, and Elena didn't bother pointing it out. She was here for something else, most likely. Sparing her 'sister' a curious glance, Bonnie tried to ignore the regret that sparked within her. Gone were Elena's gentle eyes, the soft smiled that graced her features whenever they were together. Now, there were only sharpness and malice, that Bonnie actually felt terrified of her. Where was the Elena she knew? Apparently in front of her, but forever long gone.

"Where have you been the past two days? You haven't been anywhere."

Bonnie wanted to make a sour face at her; _nice seeing you too, Elena._ Taking a sip of her iced tea, she shrugged. Checking her wrist watch, she frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be in school right now?" So was she, but she called in sick.

Elena returned the favor and didn't answer her question. Instead, she gave Bonnie one thorough look and asked, "Why aren't you telling him off, Bonnie?"

"Lena." Her stomach felt queasy, and she knew it wasn't because of the flu _or_ the eggs. Her fingers felt cold, her palms clammy. Hurt and anger danced a nasty tango between her lungs. Why? She didn't want to know. But she wasn't going to lash out and hurl because Elena was being a Grade A brat (bitch). "It's Damon; he's doing this to get a rise out of me, and he's doing this to make you jealous. It's obviously working."

Forced, fake laughter erupted from Elena's lips. Raising a brow at her, she sneered. "I am so not jealous." She folded her arms across her chest. "What I am though, is concerned for you. Even if you tell me that he's just pissing you off, I _know_ Damon. He's bound to get to you sooner or later. I spent so long trying to fend him off, but look where that got me."

"I specifically remember you telling me that you were over him." Bonnie clenched her jaw. The eggs and heaven-sent bacon didn't look so appealing anymore. "But you know what's even more surprising? Your 'concern' for me." She felt parched, wanted to get her iced tea again, but her hands were clenched and shaking under the table."I don't even want to talk about this. Not now."

"I specifically remember you telling everyone how you hated vampires."

"Look, I haven't said anything against you, Elena." And it was true. Friends outside their circle have always wondered why she always covered up for Elena, why she always gave her 'sister' a way out. "So please, don't judge me now."

"Yeah right, _Judgey_," Elena snapped, and the witch couldn't stop but think that the nickname didn't sound as right as it did when it came from a certain blue-eyed vamp. "One thing's for sure: he's trying to get in your good graces just so you'll help him change me back." Then she paused, as if gauging her reaction, and when Bonnie failed to respond with the same, quick intensity, she scornfully added, "Besides, he's been through Caroline and I; you're strike three."

Right at that exact moment, Bonnie wondered if in another universe, would she have slapped Elena's face all the way back to 1854? Did she not fight back because she was feeling sick? Was it because she was truly a doormat? Was it because she was afraid Elena's accusations were true? Because it hurt more than necessary? The answer could be yes to all of those questions, but all Bonnie could do was try hard not to cry. "I just wanted to eat my breakfast in peace," she whispered, her lower lip quivering. Simply said, she didn't want a fight, period. As much as she was ready to bawl her eyes out, she inwardly reprimanded herself that she had trained for years to be better than that. "Don't do this to me again."

"I might not like him now," the Katherine clone said, "But he's mine, Bonnie. So back off."

Just on cue, a little growl was heard from Bonnie's side. Her mini protector was trying to claw its way out of the bag, Django baring his cute, white incisors to the obvious attacker across the table. Bonnie didn't know if she wanted to weep or laugh because of her baby's cuteness. "Well... I'm his," Bonnie warned, a bit breathlessly, though regaining an ounce of confidence as she tilted her head towards the ferocious fluff, "So you... back off." When Django snarled, she couldn't help but giggle because of what she said, and just like that, all the emotions and insecurities that threatened to burst from her being felt corked and contained.

"He gave that _thing_ to you?"

"Let's go, Django," Bonnie mumbled quietly, and tried to push the fur-ball down the bag, but Elena called her name. When she gazed at her former best friend out of surprise, she was shocked to see an expression of pain on the resident damsel in distress' face. Gone was the Petrova glare, and what seemed to remain was Elena. But in a breath, the familiarity had gone, and what was left was an empty shell.

"No, no, finish your meal," Elena said all of a sudden, her voice breaking. She shook her head, as if deep in thought. "I'm sorry, Bonnie. I'm so sorry." She motioned to grab Bonnie's hand from across the table, but she retreated when Django gnarled once again. Without another word, she slid off the booth and left the diner.

Bonnie exhaled loudly. _What the fuck just happened? _Was it strange that none of it made sense? A part of her wanted to run after Elena, but she remained where she was, frozen in place with her own thoughts. Honestly, she hated having loved Elena so much all these years. It's as if she had been trained to forgive her, see through the disrespect and disregard, turn a blind eye to all her shameless flaws. She always liked to think that Elena was just a victim of circumstance.

And as expected, the poison began to run its course through her system, because how could Elena's words not sting? Bonnie felt like a hypocrite. She wasn't special, she was just a detour. Hell, he probably dated at least a hundred witches before. It was almost a given that Damon slept with all the women who crossed his way. Though Bonnie could give his amorous past a free pass, the fact remained that Elena was Damon's greatest love. For all she was worth, Bonnie didn't understand why Elena felt the need to terrorize her and consider her competition.

_Elena, Elena, Elena._ There was a time when she used to love everything about Elena.

"I'm OK," she remarked to Django, seeing him pacing inside the bag restlessly. The pup whimpered and fell down, akin to an exhausted warrior who had finally put his sword down to rest. Bonnie mirrored her pet's fatigue, but she still had the strength to pull her list back out in the open and jotted after Elena's name at number four: 4) **Elena, ****etc**.

"Thank you, Django," she whispered, and gave his snout a kiss. "My little hero." While he wagged his tail and licked her chin, the insecurities and sadness ebbing away into nothing, she exploded inevitably because of the contact.

"Aaaahhh-chooooooooooooo!"

* * *

**AN: **I know I could have inserted so much details into their bitch fight, but don't you think that sometimes, arguments happen that way, where only a few things are said, and monumental revelations are only thought about after the confrontation? Well, Bonnie tried her best (so did I). Like I told a friend here in FFN, I try so hard NOT to paint Elena in such a bad light, but for now, I couldn't resist. It had to happen, I guess.

On a lighter note, we'll finally have Bamon interaction next chappie, so stick around! :)


	6. Reason 5

**AN: **Hello, people! As I told a couple of readers, I'd be releasing another chapter this weekend, and here's that! Thank you for the positive feedback, and I'd hope you'd all enjoy this latest installment, which is the longest, most Bamon-filled fluff chappy so far. Enjoy! :)

* * *

Damon wasn't ashamed to say he was the occasional stalker. Although occasional was an understatement, he wasn't going to deny that when he was addicted, he liked to indulge. After all, wasn't the best way to get rid of temptation was to give in to it?

However, he wasn't going to stalk Bonnie. For the first time in his life, he was changing tactics. He didn't want to lurk in the shadows anymore. It wasn't just because he wanted her to know he was _there_ and he wasn't ashamed; it also had a lot to do with the fact that she could easily bake him with her mind if ever she felt his presence within her 50-feet radius. So fearlessly, he strolled down the hallways of her campus, catching every eye of teenager and teacher who either wanted to be in his sexy shoes or the object of his affection.

_That's right, ladies, stare all you want,_ he thought, his boots squeaking against the linoleum floor. Damon didn't know where he was going exactly, but he knew his Bonnie radar was steering him to the right direction. He reached a particular hall of lockers, and spotted Bonnie and vampire Barbie talking on the exact opposite end of where he stood. He didn't know how to react when his vampire ears heard Bonnie's words loud and clear, "I love him, Caroline. I'm not giving him up."

_Was that the thundering beat of her heart?_ Damon wondered. Because if he had one, he was sure that it would have burst out of his chest in smug arrogance that he had finally won. Peering his eyes to get a better view of Bonnie in the midst of his eavesdropping, he frowned. Why did she look like she ran a marathon? They've barely been in school half the day! _Was she sick?_

Caroline shook her head insistently, "Bons. I know he's all that, he's cute, but he's _not_ good for you—"

_Now wait a minute_, Damon thought angrily. He was not _cute_! He was fucking handsome. _Dashing. NOT CUTE._ He was brought out of his reverie when Bonnie stormed away, leaving a visibly upset Caroline. He didn't even have to think twice (or why), but he sped across the distance and grabbed the blonde's shoulder. "What's happening between Bonnie and me? None of your business."

"You're so vain, Damon," Caroline said flatly, shrugging his hand away. She wiped the imaginary dust that he had caused with his touch. "I wasn't talking about—wait a sec! Did you just _do_ what I think you _did_?! Listen in on us—"

"Now, now, young one," Damon said in a condescending manner, "Do you see me meddling in your love affairs _as of late_?" He was sure to emphasize the last phrase just to avoid Caroline from being historically hysterical.

Caroline made a face at him. "Are you for real? I'm actually—" When Damon looked at her in confusion, she laughed out loud, then she stopped, her face dead serious. "It's Django, you doofus. He's giving her—"

"Who's Django?!" he demanded, and when he realized what he just said, his countenance changed from bewilderment to recognition. Their pup, of course! "Uh, don't answer that."

"No worries; I already knew you were a dumbass," Caroline mocked, and sped out before he can figure out that she just insulted him so many times right in the face.

Instead of pursuing the growing interest of snapping Caroline's neck, Damon followed the witch's scent instead. He spotted her stepping out from the school clinic, a small note in hand. "You're _really_ allergic to the dog?"

"I named him Django," Bonnie said, not even bothering to stop to talk to him, and continued to walk to the school's parking lot.

"Why didn't you tell me he was making you sick?"

"Like I told Care, I'm in—I'm already _attached_ to him," Bonnie said, finally stopping in front of her Prius.

"Nah-uh, that's not what you told Caroline," Damon snapped, and opened his palm. "I'm driving you home." He hid his surprise (and glee) when she handed him her carkeys. The surprise left as quick as it came when she let out an eardrum-shuttering sneeze. "Geez, Bennett, my sensitive ears!"

"Be thankful I didn't do it on your face," she hissed, wiped her nose like a lady, and and got in the car.

When Damon slid in the driver seat, he grinned at her, "I have a question for you." He started the engine. "If you sneezed on me, and then I sneezed on you for revenge, what'd you call that?"

"You being a prick. Then again," Bonnie said. "The dead don't get sick."

"Harsh," Damon touched the spot above his heart. "But it's called swapping fluids… if you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down at her, and when she just muttered about what she was thinking, letting him in her car, he knew this was going to be one of those good days.

* * *

Bonnie stood on her porch, fumbling with her keys. She was such in a hurry to get inside, because her nose was starting to flow like the Amazon river at the same time that her speech was starting to change. She felt it in her head, the itch in her teary eyes, the bitter taste on her swollen tongue. "I swear so stupid," she complained, talking to herself, "I bead, why would I leave by beds at hobe?" When she got the door open, she turned to Damon, a sneer on her face. "I eb dot ledding you id." (I mean, why would I leave my meds at home? I am not letting you in.)

"My iPhone tells me that the Bolognese dog is hypoallergenic. Why the fuck are you suffering because of him!?" Damon asked out loud. He scratched his head, trying to connect the dots. Desperation and exasperation flared in his blue eyes. "Can't believe I screwed this fucking gift! Here I was, thinking I just—"

"Dot allergic to Djaggo. Allergic to you!" Bonnie slammed the door close, but he was quick enough to poke a tree branch in between the door to stop her efforts. She noticed he had strategically used a part of his jacket to hold the dirty branch from his person. "DABUD, GO AWAY!" (Not allergic to Django. Allergic to you! Damon, go away!)

Damon shook his head. "I hate to do this, Bonnie, but you have to give him to me."

"Wud?" (What?)

"Give Django to me."

"Dow!" Bonnie yelled, her nose red. "He's bide!" (No, he's mine!)

"I promise I'll keep him away from Stefan. He's still yours. I'm just using my visitation rights. I also need to bond with him. What will he say when he's older, huh? That I've abandoned him?" When Damon probably realized she wasn't impressed by his speech, he sighed. "It's not completely hopeless, you know. We can try to build your immunity with him, but it'll take time. If you want to see him, he'll just be at the boarding house. I'm not going to stop you. But you've got to take him out of the house. It makes perfect sense; don't you want someone to look after him during school hours?"

How he managed to make a good argument out of the blue didn't faze Bonnie, so she shook her head. If only Damon wasn't the talkative type, she wouldn't have to talk through her cold. She hated sounding like an idiot. When Damon opened his mouth to say something else, she raised a hand to top him, and blew her nose on the hanky that appeared magically on her hand. Her nose clear, she licked her lips and mouthed, "He's mine, Damon. My responsibility. You gave him to me."

"Oh for the love of god!" Damon imploded. "Stop this whole 'I don't need help' attitude!"

"That's because I don't need help! Not because I let you drive my car, or because you gave me the best thing that's keeping me happy right now, that you think you have the right to take it from me! I am not letting you, Damon!" Bonnie emphasized her point by shoving him hard on the chest, so hard that she stumbled forward, out from the barrier that was supposed to keep them apart. She knew a sore throat would be waiting for her after this, what with all the raspy whispers to save herself from sounding like a clown. There was a part in her that wanted to test both of them as well, wanting him to see that she wasn't going to change her stubborn ways. How were they going to handle a relationship if they always slipped into fights whenever they had the chance? Gritting her teeth in anger, she poked a finger on his solid chest, glaring up at him with all that the rage she could muster. "You don't have that power, Damon! I'M DOT LEDDING YOU!"

This time around though, Damon didn't come back at her with his usual insults and insensitive jokes. If anything, he observed her, probably felt the gravity of her words as he read between the lines. She was more than ready to turn around, whiplash him with her hair, and slam the door close when he smiled. The smile was different, completely different from his antagonizing leer or egotistical smirk. It didn't take long until he began to snicker, as if very entertained.

"WHUDS SO FUDDY HUH?!" Bonnie was undeniably losing her shit, irritated beyond repair, that she didn't feel his firm hands on her arms, squeezing her a little bit closer to him, the hold tight, almost vice-like, but oh so gently.

"You, Bonnie. You're the one who's funny," he whispered, and closed the distance between their lips.

* * *

Bonnie was too stunned to even blink, only managed to regard him like he was a thief who just snatched her candy, and she was about to really cry. It didn't help that she felt like someone was trying to tickle her nose with a feather. When Damon drew back, his eyes were dilated, looking at her like she was perfect. Her heart was raging with the too-concerned look written on his face.

They both realized that for the first time in their acquaintance/relationship as 'sort-of-frenemies'/unofficially dating status, that she was postponing judgment—all for his account. To prove this further, or to cover up one monumental happening with another, Bonnie asked him to enter her humble abode. "Damon, come in," she announced, and the invisible gate vibrated into nothingness. "If you wanted to get Django off my hands so badly, you didn't have to..." It was a feat to say everything under her breath, but she knew he would be listening to her intently.

As she gathered Django's things, moving about the house, Damon remained perched in the hallway, halfway in, halfway out. He didn't even say anything when she finally handed him the pup, already eager for their attention. "Take care of my baby, ok?"

Damon nodded mindlessly, staring at the pup, at the door frame, then at her. "Bonnie, I'm—"

Bonnie waved him off, hoping he'd leave it at that, but it was her who couldn't stop asking in a hoarse voice, "Why'd you do that, Damon?" They both heard how she mispronounced letter N in his name, but the question hung in there air like a balloon in need of popping. Her cheeks felt warm, her lips tingled, and her heart was practicing somersaults in her chest. She wanted him to tell her why even if she knew why, but she wanted to hear it anyway.

If one of their 'friends' had been watching, they would know that during this period, the Damon-Bonnie routine entailed of a sarcastic Damon calling the shots, Bonnie putting him in his place by sending him flying to a wall, or the male party on his knees because of an aneurism. This particular reboot, however, didn't have any of those factors, only a wide-eyed Damon who kept on staring, looking anxious and awkward at the same time. For a moment he managed to break his obsession with her face and lips. "If you didn't like it, you don't have to look so disgusted."

_That sounded dull_, Bonnie thought. They both knew disgust was the last thing on her mind. But Bonnie wasn't going to admit that, no, it wasn't going to be her. She wasn't going to say that kissing him for the first time felt like what she imagined her first true love's kiss would feel like, just as she wouldn't flash him her boobs on the porch. If she felt even just a spot offended, he would have gained a magical slap on the face and more.

What's even more hilarious and shocking was the sheer terror on Damon's face when she took a step forward, and for a second, he probably suspected that she would burn him alive. The vampire parted his mouth to say something stupid probably, but he could only watch in pure fascination and fear when the small witch stood in front of him, so small and yet so powerful, put her hands on his shoulders, stood on her toes, and planted one on his lips. He even had the right mind to close his eyes and relieve the experience again.

_Damn._

Bonnie drew back, nodded to herself and before he could do anything else with his tongue or his hands, she was already pushing him gently outside, looking at him with an emotion he would not be able to decipher. She gave him a warning that was to be deemed by Damon as a challenge accepted, "Let's not do that again, Damon."

Closing the door behind her, feeling her heart ache from parting with Django (just Django), Bonnie climbed the stairs forlorn. She finally got to her room and bit her lower lip, realizing the events that took place only a few minutes ago. Her heart was still constricting painfully, her gut nervous and uneasy, her nose clogged up but clearing already.

She let Damon take Django away.

She invited Damon in her home.

Damon kissed her.

She kissed Damon.

All of this in ONE day.

Weakly, she pulled her list from her pocket. Hands shaking so bad, she wrote for reason number five: 5) **He's a** **THREAT**. _To everything, Bonnie. To everything.  
_

* * *

**AN:** Send the love, ladies. ;)


	7. Reason 6

**AN**: Oh em gee! So sorry to have updated this late! I am sorta running after a deadline to finish this fic, but I don't think I can meet it thanks to reality. Anyway, thank you again to those who gave such sweet reviews last chapter.

Happy reading! ;)

* * *

After three bittersweet days, Bonnie had significantly felt better, but she refused to acknowledge that it was because of Django's absence. The price of her recovery felt like a joke, especially when her heart broke whenever she thought of her baby. She didn't know it was possible to have fallen in love with her fluffy snowball in such a short span of time. It was as if she and Django had always been meant to have that beautiful, unconditional love.

Still, still, Bonnie liked to attribute her weakened immune system to the fact that she was about to get her period. Didn't every girl experience poor health before their uterus bled like fuck? Surely, it wasn't just about Django—though Damon and Caroline insisted otherwise.

_"Just great." Bonnie scrunched her face_. "_When have the two of you agreed on something anyway?"_

_Caroline fluttered her lashes at her. "Since the day he started to see you the way I do." Kissing her best friend's cheek, she gave Bonnie a wink before going to her next class. _

On the bright side, Bonnie finally got the chance to catch up on the classes she'd missed. It was a little fun to get surprise hugs from her other friends, them saying how much they've missed her, etc. It was a huge contrast from the terrible ambush she experienced at the diner a few days ago with her supposed 'forever sister'.

Somehow, you'd still think that things were back to normal in her life.

Sort of.

Bonnie was functioning perfectly, albeit a few runny nose incidents, but if she had a secret admirer who knew and observed her every move, he would notice that unlike before, her phone was unusually glued to her left hand. Whatever she did, she had the gadget clutched in her fingers, and once in a while, she would tap away to the mysterious person who seemed to be so greedy of her attention.

_Caroline probably had a hunch,_ Bonnie thought. But she wouldn't admit that most of her days were spent messaging Django's self-professed 'co-parent'. Her senses tingling, Bonnie knew that he was about to text her again, and just as expected, her phone brightened her dim room.

_How was your day?_

_My dad doesn't even ask me that. Shut. Up. _Bonnie sent the text with a giggle. It was fun to sound like her age sometimes. Sometimes.

_Remember our agreement, Bon-bon. No talk, no Django._ Damon replied immediately, manipulative as always.

The truth was, Damon didn't really force her to be his 'text-mate', but she had to force herself to embrace such a role to constantly ask about how he was treating their puppy. At least, that's what she liked to tell herself. For the record though, Bonnie was itching to go to the boarding house to reclaim Django, but she was aware that doing so would be a bad idea for her now-dormant allergies. _Soon_, she promised herself. She'll get to visit, and hopefully, take him home where he rightfully belonged.

_Bleh. School good. I'm good too. Might visit Django soon. _

_Huh. When_

_I dunno? Tomorrow?_

When Kelly Clarkson began singing "I Do Not Hook-Up", Bonnie's emerald eyes widened in alarm as she dropped her phone like it was on fire. Her stomach fell a thousand feet down the edge of nothingness. Feeling naked despite wearing her comfy pajamas, she cancelled the call, and jumped away.

_Fuck. Shit. FUCK! _This was the _real_ reason why Bonnie had been religiously texting Damon. How many days had she avoided this from happening? And here she was, thinking that she had effectively distracted him from his intentions. _Stupid, stupid! _

When they parted the day after The Fucking Kiss, Damon had called her immediately after that, but like what she did today, she hang up on him. She insisted through text that she had sore throat and her cold was really bad; _Give me time to recover._ From the kiss or the sickness, Bonnie didn't know anymore. When he tried calling again the next day, she had become quite a believable fiction writer if she could say so herself: _I'm making chicken soup for my sniffles. Studying, exam, but I could text? Magic time—and no, I am not doing THAT. _

Because she didn't, no, _couldn't_ talk to him. Talking to Damon on the phone about anything other than the usual strategies to fake her death to save Elena later, Bonnie just didn't know how to handle it. It was bound to get weird, right?

What if he asked her about the kiss, what then?

What if he'd laugh at her for making a big deal about it? Hell, she was still thinking about it! Because how could she not?

Damon was the prince of surprises, and when he kissed her, as much as she didn't expect that, he was the type who did that being who he is. But _kissing_ him? So not on the agenda, much less do it while she had a terrible cold and was talking funny. Strange enough as it was, in spite of their unlimited messaging time, he didn't taunt or tease her about it. He didn't even mention it.

One thing was for sure by now: the memory of their two kisses made Bonnie feel things, things she _never_ thought she'd ever feel for him specifically.

Was life playing a cruel joke on her?

Probably.

So for days, Bonnie had been messaging him relentlessly so he wouldn't notice her certain aversion to voice calls. Because talking to him on the phone would be as good as having him whisper directly on her ear, and she was ticklish.

Fearing she'd hear Kelly's voice again, she breathed a sigh of relief when he texted her instead, _I want to hear your voice. Talk to me. _

The butterflies in Bonnie's stomach decided to practice kamikaze dips and dives. _Fuck this shit,_ she thought, and typed back, _Bad timing. About to go to bed. _

_Do you really want me to ask what you're wearing? _

Unconsciously looking down on her ratty pajamas, Bonnie huffed._ Pervert!_

_Bonnie. Answer. Or I'll be having a sip of…_

_FINE!_

Her phone stilled.

Then Kelly sang: _Oh sweetheart put the bottle down, You got too much talent…_

Bonnie wanted to run towards her bedroom wall and fall unconscious on the floor in an effort to stop her entire body from trembling. _Chillax, Bonnie. Chill._ _The kiss didn't mean anything. The kiss doesn't mean anything. It was just a spur of the moment, a big mistake—_

Holding her breath, she takes the call, thinking, _FML_.

"Bonnie."

"Damon."

"How's Django?" she asked casually, quickly. Obviously, she was a little too excited to even sound sincere. "Are you sure you're not overfeeding him?"

"Yes, _mom_, I am not overfeeding Django," he replied in a bored tone. "I could still hear a little snot in your voice, Bennett. Hmm. Maybe I should keep him for good."

_Fuck you,_ _Damon_, she immediately snapped in her head, but chose not to. She couldn't use the F word on Damon, knowing he could always use it against her. "I'm better, ok?" she asked in annoyance, trying hard not to let him get to her. "And why'd you call, huh? We're already texting." She frowned when she heard fumbling on the other line. "Hello?"

"Wait a sec—DAMMIT, DJANGO!" Damon's voice hollered from the other line. Completely overcome by anger and irritation, he yelled again, "NO! DON'T CHEW ON THAT!" He cursed again, and she heard more scratching sounds from the other line. "FUCK! I just bought these!"

Bonnie frowned, feeling her ear hurt. She had a bad feeling about this.

"Dammit," Damon grumbled, "This is why I hate kids. Thank heaven and hell I don't have 'em."

For a while, Bonnie tuned out everything he had said but the last part. _He hates kids. DAMON HATES KIDS!_ To emphasize his point, her uterus squeezed in horrid pain that she almost hissed in agony.

Other girls had it easy with their menses, but not Bonnie. Growing up, she had no mom (or dad) to give her warm water bottles to soothe her. Grams had given her some funky-tasting tea during those rare times that she was home from teaching. She hated the dysmenorrheal pains so much that she swore that all the pain would amount to something in the future—especially when her doctor told her it was normal for her. The only good thing she could get out of the hardship was to think that this made her ultimate dream even more real. Surely, she wouldn't want to die a spinster without kids! She remembered getting her first cramp years ago, and she swore to herself that even if Leonardo Di Caprio would ask her to marry him, but he didn't like kids—she would say no. The same thing applied to Damon.

_I am going to use my fucking uterus even if it kills me._

The memory of their kiss, their progress, was suddenly buried far deep down the flesh and blood of her womanhood, and the butterflies in her stomach had gone (at least temporarily). As Bonnie listened to Damon rant about how 'Django was this and Django was that', she pulled out her list and wrote in agony as her cramps flared, 6) **He HATES kids. **_Didn't he say Django was 'our child'? Way to dig your own grave, buddy. _Bonnie inwardly laughed darkly (and a bit bitterly)._ I am so not marrying you, Damon._ "Like ever."

"What?" Damon asked, suddenly stopping his mindless complaints. He clicked his tongue. "Bonnie, are you even listening to me?"

"You bet," she said in more ways than one. She heard the disappointment in her tone, the sadness creeping out in the open. Why did he keep on adding more numbers to her list? _At least we're not talking about those kisses._

"Bonnie, are you _really_ listening to me?"

_Capital A for Annoying._ Rolling her eyes, Bonnie replied, "Yes, Mister Attention Whore…"

"I'm about to tell you something serious. Are you sure you're listening?"

"OMFG, Damon, YES I'm LISTENING TO YOU!"

"Great," Damon said, the pitch of his voice uncharacteristically different. "Now, don't say anything just yet, alright? No judging, promise?"

"No judging."

"Promise?

Was that sincerity in his voice? Why was he breathing so close to the mouthpiece? He's such a loser—

"Bonnie, I think like you. Scratch that. I really, _really_ like you it's stupid."

Expect Damon to make a romantic confession and ruin it all by his own efforts.

_Wait, did he just say...? WAIT!_ Bonnie reprimanded herself. "But you don't like kids." She didn't know if she said it out loud, but she had to remind herself somehow. Because him not liking kids was a major no-no. Right?

"Huh?" Damon asked. Apparently, he was out of it. He was probably drunk, why he said it. Because instead of asking her to repeat what she said, he began talking about how he had been 'thinking' about her, blah, blah, blah. "I just told you I like you, and you're not even… You are unbelievable, Bennett."

"But you like me, huh..." she trailed off, not really taking notice of his restless mumblings. Why did she feel the need to relish what he just told her? Why did she feel happy and sad at the same time? Then again, why did he have to be such a dork? Like her previous 'He's a Bad Poet' reason, Damon probably had good intentions, but made horrific, horrific execution. He was being such a boy, she was being sexist, but it still made her heart flutter.

"Pfft. Now you want to hear it again? Vain, vain, Bonnie. You're so vain." When Damon sighed loudly on the other line, he saved both of them from awkwardness by telling her about what Django was doing. She didn't say anything for at least half an hour, listening to him as his Django narration turned to unheard stories about a younger pair of Salvatore brothers playing with a stray dog they wanted to keep but couldn't.

Bonnie was all ears, yes, but at the same time, busy with her own thoughts, her finger tracing up and down the list about why considering Damon as her future husband was a bad idea. As much as her resolve was still impact, she had to give it to Damon—he really was a character that was hard to resist. She wanted to throw her list away, wanted to memorize it at the same time.

With the fading sound of Django's barking on the background, "Goodnight, Bonnie," was the last words she heard before drifting off to dreamland. There she would cradle a blue-eyed baby with mocha skin, and there was this man, who definitely gave her a run for her money, taking his hand and hers, two matching gold bands on their ring fingers. Glancing at the beautiful child on her bosom, she thought, _But you can't have kids, Damon._

_I want kids._

_I need a family. _

_I need..._

What was supposed to be a happy dream, only made Bonnie cry in her sleep.

* * *

**AN:** Whew. Love, love for Bamon fuel, please! ;)


	8. Reason 7

**AN:** There are not any words to express how sorry I am for updating so late. Nonetheless, here is another chapter that I hope you all would enjoy.

Happy reading. :)

* * *

The nerves didn't help when she parked her car in front of the Salvatore boarding house. It was probably the first time she had gone there for personal reasons—personal, non-violent reasons, that is. She already downed her meds for her allergies, double-dosed on Vitamin C, and swore half-heartedly that she wouldn't kiss Django's face. And now, sure, she was ready to face her puppy, but was she ready to face the 'daddy'? She swallowed hard, the dryness in her throat exaggerated by her suddenly anxious thoughts.

"_Bonnie Bennett, I like you."_

"Fuck, this was a bad idea," Bonnie muttered, suddenly strapping her seatbelt back on, ready to leave. Why couldn't she just have asked Caroline to fetch Django and meet somewhere public? Not THIS! _What the hell was I thinking?! _Panic immediately consumed her, but before she can step on the gas like the Phantom Racer, the boarding house's big door slid open.

For the life of her, Bonnie thanked the heavens that Damon and Stefan didn't resemble each other. However, the nervousness returned when she watched Stefan's amused face as he made his way to her car. Why did he look like he knew something she didn't? _Did he? Didn't he? Did he? _She couldn't find it in herself to move a full minute after he knocked on her window. Forcing a smile on her face, she opened a little bit of glass, "Hi."

"Bon_nie_," Stefan said in a peculiar manner, as if he were teasing her. "You were sitting out here for what," he glanced at his wristwatch, "15 minutes already?"

Bonnie gulped. "Nah…"

"So I thought maybe I should escort you inside," Stefan said, and tried to open the car door, but it didn't budge. He raised a brow at her. "Come on. _Django_ is waiting for you."

"Um, Stef, I have, ah…" Somehow, it felt more difficult to lie to Stefan than it was to give her colorful excuses to Damon. _And did Stefan just allude to her puppy as…? No, no._ She was reading into this _waaaay_ too much. Of course Damon wouldn't tell his brother about confessing to her, right? RIGHT!? "I just got a text. I need to be in an emergency meeting. For school. Clubs. And prom."

Stefan laughed out loud she didn't think it was possible. After a minute of recovering, he grinned at her. "We go to the same school, Bonnie. I know for a fact that there are no meetings scheduled today."

"I said 'emergency', Stefan—"

"Caroline was right; you're terrible in making excuses."

Bonnie's eyes widened. "What the hell—"

"You owe me, Bennett," Stefan warned. "Do you know how many days I've suffered because of Django?"

Was he still referring to Damon as Django? Didn't make a difference, that's for sure. "Uh, sorry?"

"_Suffered_," Stefan repeated. "Now, open the door." When she looked like she wouldn't cave, he flashed her his fangs. "You wouldn't mind if I sneaked a sip, would you?"

_Oh right, I'm talking to the Bambi-sucker._ In a beat, she was out of the car, storming towards the boarding house like it was her own. "Django!?"

"Uh, I came out there to escort you," Stefan grumbled, following her as she made her way inside. "Well, welcome home, Bonnie."

Looking left and right, she frowned. "Where are they?" She began to pace nervously in the living room. She made a face when Stefan answered her pointing to the stairs. Before he can suggest anything else, she shook her head. "Not happening. I'm not going to—"

"Get your mind off the gutter, Bonnie," Stefan said, giving her a wink. Then he made a show of taking a deep breath and yelled, "ASSFACE, YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS HERE!" When Bonnie gave him a look, he frowned. "What?"

"I'm not his girlfriend," she replied. "And I didn't think you kids were so sweet."

"It's part of our charm," Damon's voice interrupted before Stefan could defend himself. He entered with his century-old swagger, the whole effect ruined by the baby bag on his shoulder. On his hand was Django, its little paws dangling in the air. He sneered at his brother in greeting, but when his eyes landed on Bonnie, she tried hard not to grab onto anything in fear of losing her balance.

Trying not to think of how she miraculously felt so endeared to the eldest Salvatore, Bonnie cleared her throat and put a smile on her face. "Django!" she chirped happily, and as expected, her little darling wagged its tail and whimpered for her attention. "Oh my, I miss him so much! Damon, give him to me!" she stretched out her hands, but he effortlessly lifted his hand over her head, and Django was simply out of reach. "What the fuck?"

"Are you dyslectic or something?" Damon asked, smirking at her. "It's supposed to be 'Oh my, I miss you so much, Damon! Give me some!'"

"I'm not dyslectic, but you're clearly delusional," Bonnie laughed. She tried to reach for her dog, but he simply held the pup away. "DAMON! Are you really trying to prove you're twelve?! He's begging for me!"

True enough, Dhango started swimming in the air, trying to get to his mommy, but Damon just looked down at her, a couple of inches below his nose. "Not in my perspective," he said, and ruffled her hair with his free hand, to which Bonnie scowled at him, trying to swat his hand away.

"How dare you touch my hair!"

"Because you're so small you couldn't reach him!"

"Don't make me use force, Damon!"

"Ooh, I'm _soooo_ scared!"

As Bonnie tried to reach for Django, she forgot about how Stefan still stood behind them, observing them quietly, completely entertained—not until Damon secretly flashed him a warning glare. "Fine, fine," the younger brother muttered under his breath, and left the two love birds alone.

* * *

"No weird feelings?" Damon asked for the third time, knowing he couldn't help the double entendre slip out. But it seemed that Bonnie was just really eager to have the puppy back in her hands. Good-naturedly, she shook her head and said her breathing was clear. Even so, Damon noticed she was going to keep a good distance from the dog and not smother it with kisses that would trigger her allergies. "That's great. You'll just have to go here if you want to do some major petting."

Bonnie just rolled her eyes at him, but this time, she didn't say anything. She kept herself occupied and effectively distracted with their baby. Simply said, they looked adorable.

Damon knew she was tense. If only he can laugh at her face because of her fears and insecurities. If anyone should be nervous, it should have been him (and he was). Unlike Bonnie, who was probably going nuts about their shared and too short kisses, Damon was feeling all sorts of out of character.

Not only because he was suddenly burdened by caring for a dog in his house (something he felt a bit guilty for doing to her, and the allergies it gave her), but because of the conversation they had the other night. Surprisingly, he wasn't out of his zone because he told her he liked her, though of course, that was an accomplishment in itself. He was, however, going a little bit crazy with the fact that he might have sort of told her things he hadn't told anyone else.

It happened right after he told her he liked her, and she sort of drifted to sleep. Or did she? He had no way of knowing, other than the soft snoring on the other line after his unplanned confession.

"_Bonnie Bennett, I like you."_

_When she didn't respond, probably lost in her own thoughts and the gravity of his 'confession', he sighed loudly. He told her about how Django was doing, and he went on and on about that, then somehow, the dog talk drifted to tales about his younger years with Stefan. They wanted to keep the stray dog they found, but they knew Giuseppe would blow a fuse if they did. Talking about his past, and his family in particular, gave him the strangest feeling to say something more.  
_

_Talking to Bonnie like this, as unresponsive as she was at the moment, made him feel different. He wanted to pour out his thoughts and emotions, not just to be able to get it off his chest, but because he wanted her to know about them. He wanted her to listen—not just because he wanted to show her that he wasn't a heartless son of a bitch, but he wanted to share who he was—or what was left of him. Honestly, Damon didn't think he was a complete lost cause. _

_So he said a few things he didn't think he'd ever say in his lifetime. "You know, as annoying as Django is? I think I actually like him." He held his breath, partly wanting to hear her retort and tease him about it, but all he could hear was the soft hum of her breath. "And don't you dare laugh at me, Bennett, but I… I think I actually want kids. But yeah, I know that's sorta impossible, but yeah. The idea of having them isn't such a bad idea." He laughed. "That sounds stupid, right? Me, a dad. Psh." _

_Damon forced another chuckle out, but it didn't feel like he was joking anymore. He hasn't been joking around her for a long time anyway. "Actually, Bonnie, I feel like… I feel like I need a family. Of my own." He wanted to strangle himself for saying it, but she was so quiet, it's as if she was really listening to him. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, but it's true. Can you imagine it though?"_

_He waited for a reply, there was none. Relief and disappointment flooded his chest. "Let's just pretend I'm not the despicable vampire you hate. But imagine this. I'm just Damon, alive, and I'm with you. We're going to be together, and, uh…" He paused, thinking about saying 'fucking' or 'making love', afraid she might suddenly wake and castrate him in the middle of the night. "We'll have kids. Imagine that." What was he saying? He was actually taking advantage of her silence. "I hope you dream of this, Bennett. I know I will." _

_Because she made it so easy to think of family. Why did she make it so easy all of a sudden? To say stuff like this? He was being a coward now, but somehow, if they kept this up, he had a feeling he would be telling her these things even if she was conscious. _

_All he could think about was Bonnie Bennett and he liked it. Loved it, even. _

_Was he in love with her? _

_Clenching his jaw, he nodded to himself. "I need you, Bonnie. I can't explain it, but I need you. If I'm going to be dreaming of kids and a life worth living, it's going to be with you." _

_When did this happen, that there was going to be no one else but Bonnie Bennett? Boy, she caught him off-guard. What a tricky little witch. _

_When she snored on the phone, he chuckled to himself, and bid her goodnight. _

Wasn't he supposed to be scared? Hadn't he had doubts of Elena because she was the evident ball and chain? But why wasn't he feeling any straw of negativity with Bonnie? Was he out of his mind? Probably. Was he serious? As a bat. Why would he tell Bonnie, of all people? Someone he couldn't compel to forget, someone he hadn't even fucked, for crying out loud. What the flying fuck was wrong with him? A lot of things, apparently.

"Stop staring, Salvatore." Bonnie's voice interrupted his thoughts, and if he had a heart, it would have had jumped out of his chest in surprise. Despite her command, he noticed something different in the way she said it, as if those three words were peppered with affection that wasn't there before.

Everything was really taking a huge toll on him. Other than his unplanned admission of wanting a family last night, it didn't help that Bonnie was being unusually Bonnie. Despite their traditional banter/aggressive acquaintance, and their ire mostly directed at each other, it's as if he had always known such sweetness was hidden in a box somewhere. This was the Pandora's box of all Pandora's boxes, that's for sure. He couldn't stop seeing all of Bonnie, even considering those annoying traits of hers as borderline adorable. Which explains why he couldn't keep his eyes off her lips for more than a few seconds.

As Bonnie was about to give Django a smooch, Damon used his superspeed to take the dog away. "Tsk, tsk, tsk!" he warned unhappily. "You're not getting sick over this again."

Bonnie looked deflated immediately. "It's just so hard to…"

"And I'm not letting Django one up me," Damon said offhandedly. "I'm a jealous hubby and if someone's getting a kiss here, it's me." Did he just get hard from what he said? Probably. Did he scare her away? As he looked down, Bonnie was already halfway to the door. _What the fuck?_ "Bonnie, wait! Hey, don't go!"

Bonnie looked like she was burning. "I gotta go," she whispered. "I don't know what I was thinking. I have to go." She kept saying it to herself, whispering about remembering 'the list'.

Damon sped up to her before she got out, slammed the door close behind him and effectively kept her away. "What are you doing? I was just joking for fuck's sake!"

"I know, Damon, I know," Bonnie whispered. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for acting this way. You've been so good to me, and—"

"Was this about what I told you the other night?" he asked fearfully. When she ignored him, he felt the need to fix things. "Bonnie, I wasn't playing around." When he realized what he just said, he smacked his own head with his hand. "I mean, look, just don't push me away." For a moment, he was relieved that she stopped moving. She faced him, her green eyes brimming with… sadness? _Uh-oh. This was not good. _

"Damon, I can't do this with you," Bonnie said under her breath. "You've been really wonderful to me, sweet, thoughtful, and I…" she shook her head. "But I can't do this. "

"I know whatever I do won't make up for all the wrong things I've done directly or indirectly to you," he said. "But, Bonnie, I…"

"I haven't said this before, but I trust you, Damon," Bonnie said. "Even before—before _this_." She looked so conflicted, looked so confused, but he could see that her mind was made up. "And I am going to tell you something, about why I can't be with you, Damon."

Fight for it. Fight for her. But he wanted to know. "Then tell me."

"I'm the marrying type, Damon," she said. "I've always wanted to get married. I want a family of my own. I want children. I want everything."

So it all went down to that. To think he said the same things to her the other night. But it was what she wanted, right? Bonnie wanted things he couldn't give her. Dreams weren't going to cut it for her. When has love ever been enough anyway?

"And I really, really hate to be the one to do this to you, but if I don't do this now, it'll only prolong the pain—because it's not hard to…" She surprised him by wrapping her arms around him, and he felt warmth he had never thought possible. Something exploded in his ribcage, like his heart beating anew. "I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Wait!" he exclaimed, grabbing her by the arm when she tried to leave again. "You're saying you don't want me because you want to get married?"

"Yes."

For a couple of moments, Damon stood there, staring at her, hoping he could read her mind. If he could, he would see another item mentally added in her list saying, Reason #7: **He makes it so easy.** _He naturally deceives you to fall for him, Bonnie. You are not immune to his charms, after all. _But he couldn't read her mind, could he?

Despite all the doubts, two questions drilled into Damon's head:

Why can't they even _try_?

Did he actually just fall for the most stubborn woman on earth?

So he laughed like a jester, just because he didn't know what else to do. But he stopped as soon as he saw the distress unfurl in her eyes. For the first time in his unlife, Damon's confidence and self-respect plummeted to the empty abyss of his soul.

* * *

**AN**: If you guys remember the last chapter, when Bonnie dreamed of having a family with Damon, it was the same time that he was telling her about wanting a family with her as well. Poor Bonnie, missing out on such a big confession! ;x Anyway, please review and tell me you're still there! ;)


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